


Touch the Other Side

by Randominity



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, First Time, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2014-02-08
Packaged: 2018-01-11 17:03:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1175593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Randominity/pseuds/Randominity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Happy fucking Valentine's Day," Louis says, in the least treat-like voice imaginable. "Now fuck me, please."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch the Other Side

"But you're so early!" is the first thing Liam says when he opens his door to Louis. "I mean, I'm happy to see you," he adds quickly, "but I wasn't planning on--"

"Yeah, I know," Louis says, brushing past Liam into the foyer, one hand shoved deep into his jacket pocket, the other clutching the handle of a Topman shopping bag. "You expected me to be late, I get it. Maybe I just wanted the chance to catch you in your pants." He turns around and gives Liam a look over, his gaze sliding appreciatively over Liam's thighs and crotch. It's far from the first time, but Liam glances away under his scrutiny anyway, waits it out while he gets his fill of a look. "Nice pants, by the way," Louis quips, and then he lurches forward to kiss Liam quickly, catching Liam on the corner of his mouth before Liam can turn back into it. Liam shrugs when they part, fighting a smile as he folds his arms.

"They're not new pants," he replies, and leads Louis down the hall into the living room. "Did you want to just wait in here while I finish getting ready? Or--" he stops and spins in place to look at Louis again. "You're not dressed," he says. Beneath his open jacket Louis is wearing an Incredible Hulk t-shirt with holes in it and a pair of grey joggers, which might be appropriate for another day, but not for tonight.

Louis holds up the Topman bag. "I brought my change of clothes," he explains. His hair is still a bit damp, but gelled in place. "And a present," he adds, shrugging lightly, "in case you wanted to get that out of the way first. Happy Valentine's Day, and all that."

"Happy Valentine's Day," Liam grins back, inexplicably happy to be saying it on the right day and all. This isn't special or new, Louis stood in his flat in comfortable clothes commenting on Liam's pants. He probably shouldn't be happy until later, when they're fully dressed and gone out, on a proper date to celebrate the occasion; when he can look at Louis and let himself think of him as Liam's boyfriend. He doesn't think that often, even if it is true all of the time. "You really got me a present?" he asks. He'd bought Louis something as well, but they hadn't discussed presents, as such; just _dinner and then we can hang out after_ , which wasn't incredibly detailed, but seemed to suffice for most of their other outings.

"It's Valentine's Day," Louis says, as if that settles it. "You should at least get a card. 'Be mine' or some shit." He flicks his hair and glances away. "I didn't get you a card, by the way."

Liam reaches out and claps Louis on the shoulder. "Of course not," he says. "But yeah, we can do that," he says, and turns back to continue on his way. "You can get ready in the other bathroom if you need the space," he starts to call over his shoulder, but Louis follows close behind and he ends up shouting in Louis' face. He drops his voice. "Or you can come with me, or if you want to play some Playstation or something--"

"I'll come with you," Louis says straight away, and they make their way back up to Liam's bedroom. "Yeah, I thought we should exchange gifts before dinner," he repeats. "Instead of at the place."

"It might be a bit too Valentines-y otherwise, yeah," Liam agrees, striding into his cupboard to pick out a shirt. They'd agreed to be low-key for this, picked out a little out-of-the way kebab place Zayn had recommended after managing to eat there with Perrie more than once without paps or fans getting word. Going out to have a bite to eat isn't anything unusual, but a fancy sit-down dinner on Valentine's Day might get a bit awkward if they're spotted. Exchanging gifts across the table as well, and that would be harder to explain. "I got you something as well," he tells Louis, shrugging into his shirt.

Louis catches his gaze in the mirror and smiles, raising his eyebrows. "Yeah?" he asks, then nods. "Good. Yeah, good. I like the shirt." He steps close to help Liam button it, then backs off and pushes down his joggers, leaving them in a puddle on the floor as he kicks off his Vans and steps out of them. "So what'd you get me?" he asks as he reaches down into his bag and pulls out a pair of black jeans.

Liam watches him dress even as he pulls on his own jeans. The curve of Louis' arse is visible through his grey pants, as is the shadow of the cleft between his cheeks when he bends over to roll up the cuffs of his jeans. "You can't even wait the five minutes to dress and find out properly?" he asks, tearing his gaze away to check himself in the mirror, to smooth his hair.

"Well, I thought you might break and tell me sooner," Louis says as his head pops through the top of his fresh t-shirt. "I'm pleased you're more clever than that." He straightens his shirt and reaches out to tweak Liam's nipple through his shirt. "There, we're early. We're making excellent time. Shall we do the honours?" He slides the same hand down and back behind Liam to squeeze his arse, and then instead of letting go, pulls Liam close and leans up for a kiss. Liam holds him there, taking him by the shoulders and then raising his hands to cup his face, taking the kiss deeper and longer. Louis' aftershave is fresh and so is Liam's, and the clash of scents is exhilarating as Liam feels Louis' pulse rush under the palm of his hand.

"Let's do it," he says at last, when they've broken apart. He lets his fingers linger at the back of Louis' neck, slipping through his hair. "I'm a bit miffed you didn't get me a card, you know. I got _you_ a card."

Louis grunts under his breath. " _Just_ a card?"

Liam smiles down at him. "Not telling."

Louis grins back and swats him on the arse before pulling away. "Good lad."

***

Most of dinner passes by in a blur for Liam, and not entirely because he wishes that it would. The kebabs and roti they're eating are delicious, every bit deserving of Zayn's high praise, and if anyone's seen and recognised them, they've kept at a distance and out of sight. Not even Louis, who's uncanny at spotting someone with a phone surreptitiously pointed in their direction, has seen anyone trying to snap a shot. 

Not that they're paying much attention to any of the people here, Liam has to admit. Louis has been tearing the corners off his napkins to ball up and throw at Liam for him to stop with his forehead for the past fifteen minutes. After stopping yet another one with his hand that his head has missed, Liam catches himself for the fourth time sliding his fingers underneath the catch of the platinum Rolex Louis gave him. He unclasps it without thinking and lets the back of the face slip over his knuckles to his fingertips. If he allows his fingers to roam, he can feel the edges of the Bat Signal Louis had engraved on the back, and a shiver goes up his spine to know it's there. He's never been one to wear the face of his watch on the inside of his wrist, but for the first time he has something - the memory of something - he wants to keep close to his heartbeat.

They've hardly talked since the car ride here. All Liam can think about are the gifts Louis had given him before they left, and the things he'd said.

"The food's good, though, isn't it," Liam says, trying to start up a conversation and not for the first time. His voice is a bit thick as he slips the watch back on. He clears his throat and takes another swallow of his beer, too much and too cold and too fast. It's hot in here, probably. He wants to enjoy it more, savour the moment, but more than that he wants to go back to his flat and cash in on the rest of Louis' gift. _"That's actually not all there is,"_ Louis had said, and Liam wants it _now_ , wants it so badly.

Louis is staring dazedly down at his unfinished roti and rolling a crumbling piece of napkin between his fingers when Liam looks up again. It's not a look Liam's seen on him often, but it hasn't fully left his face since Liam handed over the tickets he'd bought and said, _"I know it's not the finals, but... we're going to the World Cup."_ He'd had to call in every favour he could think of due to the incredible demand, and ask to owe a few besides, but if he can't even manage to whisk Louis away during two days off tour between Denmark and France to watch the bloody World Cup in Brazil, then he doesn't understand the point of calling in a favour.

 _"I'm just leaving it on the table,"_ Louis had said, and raised up on his knees to lay a condom and a bottle of lube out on Liam's coffee table.

"I'm nervous," Louis admits softly, now. He pushes the rest of his dinner around on the plate with a finger. "I didn't-- I don't think I ought to be full for this."

Liam chokes on his next swallow and has to pound at his chest for a moment. "My _god_ , Louis," he coughs, and wheezes painfully on the next breath, his chest constricting. "Oh, my god, I can't even think about that." He's never even thought about it once, but then they've only ever knocked about the idea of doing this before now.

"Well, I am," Louis says, a bit sharply, as he looks up. Liam can see the whites of his eyes around the blue. "Let's just go. Let's take this with us and go back to your flat. If you still want."

"I still want," Liam tells him quickly. He pushes his own plate away and reaches for his wallet. "Jesus, I haven't been able to think about anything else," he goes on, throwing a few notes down on the table as he rises from his seat. Louis flashes a grin at him as he gets up as well, then pushes his chair back in with his hip. "Let's go home," Liam says. "Leave everything here."

He reaches out and gives Louis' shoulder a bit of a shove with his fingers, telegraphing it enough that Louis could lean into it if he wanted to. Louis' no pushover, unless he wants to be, even as uncertain as all this is; even with this raw wound of vulnerability Louis has volunteered to share with him. Liam shoves Louis to let him know that he knows.

Louis puts his hands in his jacket pockets and pushes forward so that Liam has to take a step back.

***

Liam knows better than to ask Louis if he's still nervous; not when Louis' jiggling his leg so hard his gelled fringe quivers in the car on the way back to Liams' flat, not when he's rocking from one foot to another in the lift on the way up, and not when he's backed, wild-eyed, against the kitchen worktop, hands braced behind himself. So Liam doesn't ask. He anchors down Louis' knee with soft strokes of his hand, steadies Louis with a hand at the small of his back, and moves in large circles around Louis as he gets them both beers from the fridge.

"Don't be a twat," Louis says, letting go of the worktop to hold out his hand. "Just give me the bottle," and Liam hands him a cold one that he accepts gratefully and swallows down, half the beer in several pulls.

"We don't have to do this," Liam suggests at last, joining him for a sip of his own. He can feel the heat and anxiety radiating off of Louis from where he stands, but he can also see the line of Louis' dick where he's adjusted it to the side of his zip. Louis' hard, turned on at the thought of this and they haven't even touched yet, not even a cheeky grab of hands or grope in the doorway. Liam's own cock is hard, an insistent pressure against the waist of his jeans, holding them up as much as his arse and anything else. He wants Louis like this, hard and hot and still beneath him, but he wants Louis to be able to relax more.

"I want to do this," Louis insists. "I want you to fuck me tonight." He sets the rest of his beer down and pulls Liam close by the belt loops. "I should pull these right down," he murmurs with a glint in his eye, and Liam widens his stance instinctively - quickness and the ability to trust his gut is the key with Louis, he's learned - in anticipation of the rough yank down that Louis attempts, catching the waist of his jeans painfully on his thighs, dragging on his leg hairs below the bottom of his pants.

Liam sets his own beer down beside Louis' behind him and lets himself be pulled nearer, leaning in to kiss Louis with cool lips. He slides his tongue past Louis', loving the slick glide of them as they nip and suck at one another, sloppy and familiar but tinged with nervous energy. His hands find Louis' hips and he uses the leverage of the worktop to hitch him up a bit. Liam holds him there, his muscles straining from inactivity, just to get a good angle to grind against, forcing a gasp out of Louis and then making him bite Liam on the corner of his bottom lip. The denim of Louis' jeans is rough against the soft cotton of Liam's pants and it chafes a bit, rubbing hard and rocking together, but they've gotten off like this before and right now that that's not on the table, Liam's in no hurry. He wants Louis too turned on to want to stop.

Louis tears his mouth away from Liam's wetly with a groan and forces his hand down in the narrow space between them to unfasten his flies and push down his zip, then his jeans entirely, half-hanging off one hip so their cocks align in their briefs. Liam lifts him clear off the ground for a thrust, pushing his back up the edge of the worktop to tip him a little further. It's hot, Louis' back arching in response, and Liam can't see through his shirt but knows well enough how it looks, his hard abs toned from training up for football and how they're working to keep him upright. Louis shoots his arm out to catch the side of the fridge, fingers streaking along the surface in search of a grip. "Wait, stop, stop," Louis pants, and Liam holds him steady while he lowers him back down.

"You all right?" Liam asks, smoothing his thumbs over Louis' hip bones. He's already thinking of putting his mouth on them, of getting out of these jeans to free his legs and then sinking to his knees on the kitchen floor and maybe getting Louis off first here.

"Help me get ready back in the bedroom," Louis says instead, and walks stiffly past Liam into the living room to retrieve the condom and lube he'd promised earlier. "I don't want to come out here."

Liam watches him go, thinks about coming up behind him while he's bent over the coffee table. He pulls his jeans back up over his bum so he's no longer straining to keep them up, but splits open his flies and adjusts himself in his pants for a bit of relief. "I'll meet you there?" he calls after Louis, and then, although he doubts his ability to move all that well with his hardon and open jeans, he adds, "race you," and makes a bolt for it, one hand clutching at his waistband as he rushes across the kitchen. He feels the grin spread on his face as he catches a glimpse of Louis whirling around in the living room, hears him wail, "nooo!" in protest, but Liam's already down the hall, round the corner.

He can hear the squeak of Louis' shoes against the hardwood floor behind him, but doesn't look back, unbuttoning his shirt clumsily with his free hand as he makes it to his bedroom and stopping just inside to kick off his Converse. Louis barrels into him and propels them both forward until they're grabbing at each other, hips and arses and edges of shirts, and they topple onto Liam's bed in a tangle before Louis' straddling him, raining a condom down on Liam's head with the bottle of lube raised triumphantly in his other fist. "I've got you," Louis says breathlessly, and Liam grins up at him, flushed with certainty at the brilliant honesty of that simple statement.

"Yeah, you do," he agrees, and flips them so he's on top, Louis going down easily enough. It takes the edge of nerves off, and Liam's grateful for it as they fall back into familiar patterns, stripping off one another's clothes and sneaking kisses to the skin they expose. Liam sucks a mark into the sharp jut of Louis' hipbone that he knows won't be there in a few more months, once they're back on tour and Louis isn't training anymore; it'll be softer there, and smooth, and Liam will sink his teeth into it and bruise Louis up all over again.

"How do you want to do this?" he asks, when he's settled between Louis' legs, petting at Louis' hole with one lubed finger. He's gone with a lot of lube for this. He reckons you can never have enough.

"How do you mean?" Louis says. He's rocking his hips a bit distractedly, pushing down on Liam's finger like he can make it go in accidentally, but what he doesn't seem to realise is that Liam's already been _trying_ , gently, to push through. He's awfully tight. Liam just wants him to enjoy this. "Stick your fingers in me, and then your dick. This is the easy part, Liam."

"I'm gonna be honest with you, Louis, I don't think it's that simple," Liam tells him, looking up the length of Louis' body to watch the ragged rise and fall of his stomach with his breath. He's trying not to rut against Louis' leg with how painfully hard he is, fingers tucked up under Louis' balls, close enough to suck. Louis' cock is still hard despite all this, foreskin rolled back and the crown taut and shiny from a tiny smear of pre-come. "I can't even get one finger in; I think you need to relax a bit more."

"I am relaxed," Louis argues, then throws his head back in frustration. "Suck my dick or something, I don't know," he blurts, squirming beneath Liam's hands. "Make me come."

"Yeah, all right," Liam says, relieved to have a task instead of guessing at what Louis might need. He does well enough as long as Louis gives him a clue, but his arse is literally uncharted territory. Making Louis come is something he can do, however, and he gets to work at it, folding his lips around the head of Louis' cock and holding him still against the initial jerk of his hips. He continues to circle Louis' hole with his finger as he sucks, running his tongue up and down the thick root of Louis' cock and teasing at the edge of his foreskin, until Louis groans and bears down and opens up just enough for him to get a knuckle in. It's so hot, and Louis is so tight, but it's giving, inch by painstaking inch.

It's easier going from there, pressing in bit by bit while he bobs up and down on Louis' cock, listening for all of Louis' usual cues as he searches out and presses up on Louis' prostate. Louis makes a choked sound when he does, tightening his hands where they're gripping at Liam's shoulders, and then things move very quickly; Liam works a second finger in without much trouble, feeling out how Louis' voice changes, how he shifts his hips, how often he moans. When Liam finally has both fingers crooked and rubbing, Louis' breaths get short and sharp for a tense moment before a hot rush of come floods Liam's mouth and he squeezes his eyes shut, holds on while he swallows. Louis clenches hard around Liam's fingers as he comes in bursts, and Liam has to stop himself from thinking too hard about how that might feel around his cock, if he were deep inside Louis like that the next time Louis came.

Liam pulls off when he's certain he won't get a shot in the face, but keeps his fingers where they are instead of withdrawing from Louis' arse, petting Louis' taint soothingly with his thumb. "All right," Louis says in a shaky voice, staring up at the ceiling. He tips his chin down to look at Liam, face flushed with pink that spreads down his neck and onto his chest. "That was-- I need a minute."

So does Liam, with Louis looking like he does, hair falling onto his forehead free of the hold of gel. "Of course," Liam agrees. "Need me to pull out?" he asks, but Louis shakes his head.

"I kind of like your fingers there?" he says, then laughs at himself. "It's weird. Now that you're in, I suppose."

He's still tight, snug around Liam's fingers, but it doesn't feel like Liam's going to break him apart if he so much as wiggles them anymore. "I'll keep them in, then," Liam tells him, and moves back up the length of Louis' body to kiss him awkwardly with his hand still tucked between Louis' legs. His wrist protests the angle, but Louis props himself up on his arms and bows his head, meeting Liam halfway, always compromising, making it work best for both of them. Louis kisses with the lazy sloppiness of the well fucked, his tongue sliding over Liam's lips and then between them whilst Liam just tries not to grind his way to a fast orgasm against Louis' thigh, tries to keep his fingers from thrusting in and out of Louis until Louis lets him know it's all right.

Louis lets him know with a murmur against his mouth, sneaking a hand down to grab at Liam's wrist and try to force his fingers deeper. "Only _two_ fingers?" Louis asks, when he's accounted for each of them. "Christ, can you move them? Can you get three in?"

Liam shifts up so that he's on his knees and looks down where he's got his other fingers tucked in towards his palm. "I can try," he says hopefully. He thinks they might actually have the hang of this, now.

"Are you bigger than three fingers?" Louis eyes him warily, then bypasses the answer by wrapping his fingers around Liam's cock and giving it a stroke in his hand, lip bitten thoughtfully. "Fuck," he says. "Fuck three fingers. Just do it."

Liam gapes at him, looks at the span of his two fingers and the girth of his own cock, wet at the tip with pre-come and renewed interest. There is no way. He tries to give Louis a nice, calm, neutral but concerned look so he won't panic him. "But you just said--"

"I'll stretch," Louis insists. "Just go slow. I like this; I like the way it feels, all right? I want you to do this. Fuck-- I'll turn over," he says, and wriggles backwards until Liam's fingers slip wetly out of him, flipping over on the bed and then snagging a pillow from Liam's headboard. He tucks it under his hips to elevate his arse and folds his arms on the duvet, resting his chin on them, then looks back at Liam over his shoulder. The entire display makes Louis look like a treat offered up for Liam's enjoyment, with the exaggerated curve of his arse as the oversized dessert tray. "Happy fucking Valentine's Day," Louis says, in the least treat-like voice imaginable. "Now fuck me, please."

Something of the frown Liam's trying to suppress must show on his face, because in the next instant, Louis makes an attempt at softening his fierce expression. It makes him look like he's in pain. "Liam, I've wanted to ask you this since before Christmas, all right? I've been thinking about it a lot. It's just never been the right time before now."

As seduction attempts go, it's enough. Liam's cock never doubted him. "Well, that's good then," Liam says brusquely, because too much sincerity in the room without taking a bit of the piss makes them both antsy, "because I ain't asking you again if you're still sure you want to do this." That earns him a laugh, and he grins back, pleased to break the tension, before rooting around for the condom to tear it open and roll it carefully on.

He's generous again with the lube because he's got no idea what he's doing but he does know he's definitely bigger than two of his fingers, giving himself a couple of strokes to harden up where the condom's made him go a bit soft, and to heat the lube somewhat. He spreads Louis' cheeks open with his fingers to see the glisten of his hole, still slightly open; then fits himself inside and holds his breath as he pushes in, slow. Louis breathes for both of them when the head of his cock slips in, letting out a low, breathy moan, and Liam has to put his hand down on the bed beside them to stop himself from moving, feeling like a hook behind his navel wants to draw him in, urging him forward. "Louis," he pants, feeling a rivulet of sweat slide down the side of his face to itch at his jawline. "Tell me when."

"Not yet, not yet," Louis says, his mouth pressed halfway into the duvet, his voice a rasp. "I'm only gonna say this once, Liam, but--" he rolls his shoulders-- "you're fucking massive, babe."

Liam rubs his hand soothingly up the small of Louis' back. It's not at all the only time Louis' praised him, though that's generally Louis' way, leaving no cock in the band unflattered; but he lets the lie stand, and anyway, he gets it. Louis' like a vice around him; Liam's got no idea how he even fit it in except that there he is. He waits for Louis to give him a sign and then he lets himself sink in, holds himself up and paces himself. They're both panting by the time he's in balls-deep, Liam's mouth in the back of Louis' hair and a sheen of sweat between Liam's chest and Louis' back. Liam covers the fist Louis has balled in the duvet with his own hand, squeezing as he rocks out and then back in with a first, experimental thrust. Louis lets out a soft squeak like Liam's crushing him, and Liam looks up. "Let me know if you need me to let up," he says.

"No, don't," Louis moans. "God, you're so deep. Push me down." His body's tensed up, quivering, and Liam can't tell if it's discomfort or pleasure that has him strung this tight, but it only makes him tighter around Liam as he goes on, slow and deep, pressing them both down into the mattress, holding hands. He fucks Louis like that until the glide is easier and Louis is moaning with every thrust, pushing back on him so Liam can get his free hand round Louis' front to his cock. He's still soft, and Liam tries to wank him a bit to help.

"Can I get you hard again like this?" he asks, stroking Louis slowly, and his dick stiffens slightly in Liam's hand before Louis reaches down and catches his fingers, slows him.

"I'm still sensitive," he says. "Just fuck me. Fuck me faster."

Liam releases him then, palms Louis' hip and drives in faster, taking longer strokes and staring down at the length of him as he withdraws, pistoning in and knocking the breath out of Louis until he has to tug Louis back up on his knees for leverage. _"Yes,"_ Louis says, starting to wank again, and Liam goes mindless for a moment, dicking into him hard until he can hear the smack of Louis' arse against his hipbones over their breaths. He races to match the speed of Louis' arm as he strokes himself and then his orgasm hits him in a rush and he cries out, sputtering come into the condom as it washes over him. He bucks into Louis again with an aftershock, then pulls out and shakily balls up the condom in a tissue to throw away properly later.

Louis is still wanking when Liam comes back up behind him, and he rolls over when Liam nudges his hip, working quietly except for the slick noise of his foreskin rolling over his cockhead. His hair is drooping with sweat, sticking to his forehead in strands, and his cheeks are pink with exertion, his lower lip bitten white between his teeth. "Are you all right? Are you close?" Liam asks him, hovering his hands as though he can help, but Louis nods, arching up as his fist blurs over his cock, waiting; then Louis squeezes his eyes shut tight and comes again, silent and in thin pulses over his hand and stomach.

"Shit," Liam says, as Louis takes a gulp of breath and straightens out his legs, wiping his hand off on the duvet beside him. " _God_ , was it _that_ good?"

"It was all right, to be honest," Louis responds hoarsely. There are dots of come all over his stomach; Liam pushes his forefinger through one.

"So we won't do that again, then," Liam says. He lifts his gaze from Louis' torso up to his face, and Louis meets it.

"Well," Louis says. "I suppose if there's ever another special occasion. Like your birthday--"

"That's not for how many months!" Liam isn't bothering to count. It's ages away, is the point.

"--or a weekend," Louis goes on, shrugging. "I could do weekends."

Liam nudges him with the back of his hand. "Yeah?" he asks.

"Maybe weeknights," Louis says, quietly. His cheeks haven't lost the pink in them, though the rest of him is no longer as flushed and sweaty.

"Oh, really," Liam asks, and punches Louis gently in the hip before lying back down next to him. He punches Louis in the side of his arm as well, and Louis reaches across himself to stop him, holding Liam's fist in the palm of his hand. "Happy fucking Valentine's Day," he says, kissing Louis on the shoulder. "Thanks for the gifts."

"Yeahhhh," Louis cheers half-heartedly. "Same to you; thanks." He turns over to face Liam and snuggles in. "The World Cup, though, man," he laughs.

"Your arse, though, man," Liam shoots back. He pulls Louis closer still and lets Louis throw a leg over his hip. It's not the most comfortable position they've ever slept in, but it'll do for a nap. "Weekends, you said, yeah?" he can't resist saying, on the cusp of dozing, and he's not even certain Louis' heard him, his breath coming slow and even.

"Let a man recover, Payno," Louis mutters sleepily into Liam's chest, after a long moment; then, "I said week _nights_."

Liam hides his smile in Louis' hair, though there's no one there to see. "Just making sure," he says, and lets himself fall under.

 

end.

**Author's Note:**

> I regret everything, but mostly using lyrics from _Why Don't We Go There_ for the title of this fic.
> 
> Thanks so so much to everyone who looked this over and to **onthehill** for the lightning-fast Britpick!


End file.
